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Graff1980
Poems
Oct 2017
Untitled
It is the sound I dread
when tires squeal
in stretched out agony
moving with the slowness
of uncontrollable motions
and anxiety.
I hear a car streaking
the concrete
with black tire treads
as it tries to stop.
I pause for a second
in silent prayer
please donβt let me hear,
the sound of metal
and glass crunching.
Written by
Graff1980
43/M/Springfield Illinois
(43/M/Springfield Illinois)
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0
142
girl diffused
,
Jenny Gordon
and
Graff1980
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